“You said,” she interrupted, smoothing her palms slowly down the ridges of his abdomen. “That a gentleman ensures a woman’s pleasure comes first.” She felt his stomach contract beneath her touch and pressed on, her fingers reaching the waistband of his breeches. “It has come first. Twice, in fact.” She paused there, her eyes still holding his. “Now it is mine to give.”
The sound that left him then was not quite a word. His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her once, deeply and slowly, as if he were trying to talk her out of it and persuade her toward it all at the same time. When she drew back, she held his gaze as she sank slowly to her knees before him.
She could feel the intensity of his eyes on her as she reached for the lacing of his breeches, her fingers unhurried despite the hammering of her own heart. She had never done this before and was not entirely certain she knew how. But she thought of how he had knelt before her without a second thought, and she found that her uncertainty was smaller than her wanting to give him the same.
When his breeches fell away, and she wrapped her hand around the warm, hard length of him, she heard his breath leave him in a rush above her.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She lifted her eyes to his, holding his gaze as she leaned forward and very slowly drew the tip of her tongue across him.
The sound he made was low and fractured, and the satisfaction that shot through her at hearing it was something she had not anticipated. So she did it again, and this time, when he exhaled, his hand came down to rest gently in her hair.
She took him into her mouth then, slowly, learning the weight and warmth of him, and felt his whole body shudder above her.
For a while, he let her set the pace, his hand resting loosely in her hair as she found her rhythm, learning what drew the sharpest sounds from him and returning to those places with growing boldness. But as her confidence deepened and her mouth grew more demanding, she felt the restraint go out of him. His grip tightened in her hair, and a ragged groan tore from his chest as his hips began to move with her, no longer content to simply receive but driving forward to meet each motion, urging her deeper, harder, faster, his breath coming in short and broken bursts above her until he was trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
“Hell... Elara!” Constantine groaned.
Satisfaction surged through Elara’s blood as Constantine’s grip on her hair tightened and his hips jutted forward, driving the hard length of him into the back of her throat. She had never imagined, not once in her life, that she would find pleasure in giving this kind of pleasure to a man. Yet as Constantine’s release shot down her throat with another intoxicating moan, she reveled in his reaction and his taste. She felt seductive. Powerful. Even on her knees.
She swallowed around his girth, drinking up his release as Constantine’s grip in her hair turned into a caress, and he bowed forward, breathing heavily. She gave one more powerful suckle, delighted that another spasm rocked through Constantine’s body, and drew him out of her mouth before she sat back on her heels.
“Is that sweeter than ham and marmalade?” she asked, grinning mischievously up at him.
Constantine looked down at her with hooded eyes that made her sex pulse; his naked, muscular chest glistening with sweat as he continued to draw in those deep breaths. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips, and he let out a breathy laugh.
“Infinitely,” he panted, helping her to her feet. “Though I confess I did not think that possible.”
Then another moan left his lips as he drew her into his embrace and kissed her, the affection sending another delicious jolt through her nerves.
“You have a wicked streak within you,” he breathed, pulling away as he cupped her cheek and pressed his forehead lightly against hers. Something like pride glittered in his eyes. “You keep it well-hidden, but it is there.”
Elara drew her bottom lip between her teeth even as a smile tugged at her lips.
“I must confess that even I did not know it was there,” she admitted. “However, you seem to bring it out of me.”
Constantine chuckled again, then leaned down to kiss her once more. Softer, this time. Longer and sweeter too.
“Surely we could both get some sleep now,” he said, pulling away.
Already, Elara could feel her hot need transforming into drowsiness, and she nodded as Constantine tucked himself back into his breeches. She wanted to suggest that they sleep together, but despite how bold she had just been, she was suddenly too shy to suggest such a thing.
“Come to my room with me tonight,” Constantine insisted, as if reading her thoughts. “As we discussed, we do not have much time left. I want to feel you against me as much as possible.”
Elara wanted to preen at his invitation, feeling precisely the same way.
“I should enjoy that,” she replied, feeling a girlish blush take over her cheeks. “Very much.”
“It is settled then,” Constantine said, looking relieved that she had agreed.
For a moment, they worked together to clean the counter, not wanting any evidence of their intimacy left behind for the staff to discover. Then Constantine took her hand and led her out of the kitchens.
They were rounding the corner of the hallway when they collided with the nanny. At first, Elara let out a surprised laugh, but as she took in the worried look on the woman’s face, her mood shifted from mirth to concern.
“Betsy?” Elara asked, helping the woman steady herself. “What is it?”
“It is the tiny Lord,” Betsy said, her tone frantic.
